09/08/2019
Dear Dancers,
We will be gathering to dance this Sunday, Sept. 8th, in West Hall! It's been a glorious summer and I hope the warmth of the days has filled you to the brim. I am wanting/longing to see each of you, to put our feet back on the dance floor and let our bodies move, in all the ways they need to.
I recently re-read this haunting poem and I will print it here for you to consider. See you on Sunday!
Love, Christine
A Ritual To Read To Each Other
If you don't know the kind of person I am and I don't know the kind of person you are,
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.
For there is many a small betrayal in the mind, a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break,
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood storming out to play through the broken d**e.
And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail, but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.
And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy, a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider-- lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.
For it is important that awake people be awake, or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe-- should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
~ William Stafford ~
